


Warmth

by semnai



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Angst now?, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Some violence and mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semnai/pseuds/semnai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cold night on their journey, Bilbo finds some unexpected, but possibly welcome, company beside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an amazing fanart by [annicron](http://annicron.tumblr.com/image/38175405379).
> 
> True fact, I was not shipping this ship earlier today until I saw that fanart. It converted me and my bro Danielle, who had already been shipping it, had me write fic for it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fluff!

Bilbo scrunched his nose as the wind picked up, blowing a leaf onto his face before moving on with its journey through the air. If only it was that easy for their travels. Bilbo Baggins, instead of his fine goose-feathered mattress back home, was curled up on his scratchy bedroll. As he kept telling himself, it wouldn’t be the last time he wished for the finer things he once had. He curled his hands around the thin cloth that acted as a sheet and pulled it closer. The wind had also brought a chill, which seemed to him quite unnatural for this time of year. It was August, for goodness sakes. 

He shivered and rolled to his side, curling his legs to his chest, with the vain hope that facing the dying fire would warm him slightly. The dull heat that radiated from the fire pit was like a soft touch to his skin, but nothing more. Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut, craving sleep. They had walked miles today and would walk miles more tomorrow. 

He started focusing on his breathing, trying to block out the snores of all the other dwarves as he did every night, which finally lulled him into a half-sleep. At the moment he could feel himself drifting off into slumber, part of his brain suddenly realized something was different. Something had changed. He groggly licked his lips, and shifted slightly trying to place what was—oh. _Oh_.

It suddenly clicked in his mind that one of the main things that probably was a bit different was that there was unexpectedly a body curled up next to his. He squirmed again slightly and he could feel that it fit against his like a key in a lock. It also suddenly occurred to him that a larger hand across his abdomen held him close. 

His eyes shot open, vision slightly blurred from grogginess, but he focused on the red and black embers of the fire before him. 

“What—“ he whispered, looking down at the hand on his chest. It was rough, like hewn from a boulder, and Bilbo noticed a ring on one of the fingers that was…

“Shhh,” Thorin’s gruff voice mumbled. He pulled Bilbo in closer. Bilbo just opened his mouth but nothing came out in surprise.

“It’s cold,” he muttered into Bilbo’s shoulder, as if that explained everything. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at this, but was still undecided of what to do. He had to admit that this was much warmer, probably the reason he had had almost fallen asleep. He pursed his lips in thought.

Thorin had been much friendlier towards him after Bilbo had saved his life. Bilbo huffed; quite right he should too. He had hugged him then, and had hugged him several times afterwards, but Bilbo figured it was just a Dwarvish sign of affection, comradery with the group, acceptance, all of which he welcomed. But this, this, to him, seemed like more.

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked hesitantly, craning his neck towards where he assumed Thorin’s face would be.

“Hmh?” 

He tried to figure out how to most delicately ask this; offending Thorin once again was not at the top of his to-do list.

“Aren’t there… other dwarves that would do better?”

There was silence. He could almost feel Thorin’s eyes upon him, scrutinizing him.

“No,” Thorin said simply, and out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo could see him with his eyes closed, smiling. Bilbo sighed, resigning himself to the situation. He had been in much worse, truth be told.

And if he was honest with himself, he liked this arrangement. He was finally warm; Thorin curled up next to him was much more comfortable than he would admit out loud, and it just felt… Bilbo stopped.

 _It was late_ his brain finally suggested to him. He yawned, and settled his arms over the larger one on his chest and drifted into one of the most pleasant sleeps he had gotten in months.

Thorin was gone when he awoke the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god guys thank you all so much for your amazing response to this fic. YOU GUYS ARE TOO AWESOME FOR WORDS. Thank you for your kind kudos and many comments, which mean so much to me. 
> 
> SO AS NEARLY PROMISED, a continuation of the ficlet. 
> 
> I can also almost certainly promise another chapter after this as well, which I hope will be a good thing for you guys.

The odd thing about life is how change doesn’t always occur in the same way. Sometimes big changes arise when you’re thrust outside your front door, running off and leaving everything behind in a split-second decision, when others seem to happen without you even being aware. The change just slips into your life and one day you realize what’s actually different and wonder how you could have lived before without it.

Bilbo had honestly never thought too much about it before he had started on this adventure. It used to be that change was switching from summer berries to winter roots in his gardens, not traveling across the Misty Mountains and seeing Elves, and most definitely not _this_.

He sighed, and pulled his legs in closer. Bilbo was sitting next to the fire again, staring into its depths as if they held the answers. The dwarves were boisterously finishing the dinner that had been prepared from the four rabbits Kili had managed to shoot down. Bilbo had already finished his portion and was mainly keeping to himself, lost in thought.

His arms were wrapped around his legs, which were stiff from plenty of walking and occasional stumbling. The dwarves had started playing a lively song that seemed out of place in this wilderness but was most welcome. It brought him back to nights in the Green Dragon Inn pub back in the Shire. As he hummed along as best he could to the unfamiliar tune, he sensed someone sitting down next to him. He glanced over, and seeing Thorin looking over at him, Bilbo smiled but continued to hum and pulled out his pipe. He lit it and inhaled the sweet smoke that curled from it. Thorin continued to stare.

“Did you eat enough?” he asked finally.

Bilbo nodded, eying Thorin curiously. “I did, but your concern is appreciated.”

Thorin dipped his head slowly in acknowledgement and looked away, eyebrows knitted with some emotion Bilbo could not place. After the night Thorin had laid beside him for warmth, he had appeared several other times, but not every night, leaving Bilbo more disappointed than he was ready to admit to himself. However, he acknowledged it enough and had attempted to give it some thought as to its meaning. He wasn’t as ignorant or naive as some would want to believe; or in any rate, he liked to believe he had learned much in the last several months.

Riddles and puzzles were his specialty and Thorin was an enigma if Bilbo ever saw one. He admired Thorin, always had, for his tenacity and bravery, among other things. He was someone Bilbo knew he could follow until the end of this journey, and whatever laid beyond that.

Bilbo nodded to the other dwarves playing music. “Why not join in with them?”

He imitated Thorin’s frowning demeanor, the expression that nearly a permanent fixture on his face. Bilbo thought it rather unhealthy to dwell on unpleasant things too much, as Thorin did in large amounts. He had only seen him smile… Bilbo hesitated, and gave it some consideration. The only times he could recall were when Thorin had first embraced him, and days later just before they had drifted off asleep. Something twinged in his chest.

Thorin smirked. “Not tonight. Besides,” he added gruffly, “who would be seated by you?”

Bilbo shrugged, but smiled all the same. Together they sat in silence, listening to the music and in Bilbo’s case, smoking. Not all nights were as pleasant as this one on the grimy road. But they had eaten well and the night was warm. What more could they ask for?

Later, as Bilbo stretched out on his bedroll, curling his toes and shifting the clumped cloth that acted as his pillow, Thorin approached. Most of the other dwarves had settled down, and some had even fallen asleep already. He carried his own bedroll, and just stood next to Bilbo, staring at him. His face was only partially illuminated by the dying fire.

Bilbo was unsure what he was waiting for and glanced up, uncomfortable with the silence. 

“You… can come. Down?” he stammered, unsure of himself and the situation. Thorin immediately placed his bedroll next to Bilbo’s and sat down. Bilbo just watched his actions, but still was completely hesitant about what to say next. 

Eyes downcast, Thorin removed the leather strap which his sword was tied to that slung across his chest before sighing. He looked over to Bilbo. “I wish to formally express the desire of your company.”

Bilbo snorted. “Is that what you’re calling it? I am unfamiliar with Dwarvish traditions, but how often do you—“

Thorin cut in. “I only have your safety in mind.”

Bilbo eyed him suspiciously. “My safety? I see.”

“You saved my life with bravery I foolishly was not aware you possessed. I will return the favor with many apologies for my prior treatment of you.” And Thorin gazed down at Bilbo with such intensity and force that all Bilbo could do was nod.

Thorin just nodded back as if he expected nothing else and lay down.

Bilbo was still lying on his back, his arms crossed across his chest, but Thorin slid an arm underneath them, wrapping it around the front of his body and pulling him close. Bilbo sighed, resigned, and rolled to his side, like the times before, and Thorin fit him in closer, snugly pulled against the dwarf’s larger body, letting himself be engulfed by the warm, steady solidarity it offered. Thorin made a content sound in the back of his throat.

He knew he wasn’t opposed to it, but was still unsure how Thorin had really come to regard him in this way. No matter what Thorin said, this wasn’t just “keeping him safe”, but as one of Thorin’s legs fit in between his, Bilbo decided tomorrow was probably a better day to consider everything, and hummed back. 

Bilbo was already asleep when Thorin, whose head fit in the crook between Bilbo’s neck and shoulder, softly pressed his lips to his neck, and joined him in slumber.  
As the first tendrils of pink light appeared on the horizon through the trees, Bilbo yawned, and started to stretch but stopped himself. 

Thorin’s arm was curled around his waist, still clinging possessively to him even though Thorin’s soft snores could be heard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, you guys. I am just overwhelmed by how much everyone likes this. Beyond overwhelmed. I DON'T UNDERSTAND IT. Thank you so much for all your beautiful, wonderful comments. I read all of them and they've all made me extremely happy and fueled me writing more of this, as requested. 
> 
> However, for this chapter I must warn you that there are SPOILERS for the book. Not the end of the book, but just halfway through. I hope you've all read the book, because its one of my favorites, obviously. PLEASE DO IF YOU HAVEN'T YET. 
> 
> I never clarified, but the first two chapters in my mind took place in the first part of their journey through Mirkwood, and so this does follow after that.
> 
> I reaaaaaally hope you enjoy this. I'm heading off to relatives tomorrow and so wanted to post this for you guys tonight. 
> 
> And I will reiterate, so no one gets mad at me, *****MILD SPOILERS AHEAD*****

Bilbo padded softly up the spiral staircase, thankful that his path was deserted. Not that it mattered if an elf passed him; his handy ring was the only reason he had survived this long behind enemy lines, probably the only reason they had a chance of escaping from Woodland Elves’ kingdom. After being attacked by those horrid spiders, they had been devastated and lost; mistaking the elves’ nighttime fires as a source of much needed help, they had been effortlessly kidnapped and imprisoned within these walls. 

Well, with the exception of Bilbo, who had managed to sneak through the gate unseen with the help of his ring. As helpful as a magical invisible ring was, remaining undetected and quiet was absolutely necessary as one misstep or stumble would spell doom for his mission. He was their only way out and he wasn’t going to mess it up.

His stomach ached with worry and stress, and he knew he had to find where Thorin was being kept as soon as possible. They had thought him lost to the company but Bilbo had just managed to discover that this was not the case. 

Bilbo reached a landing and glanced down both directions of the hallway. He had been able to find most of the dwarves locked up separately in clean, but barren cells on the far west side of the Elven palace, but they had still had no idea that Thorin had also laid within these walls until now. He had eavesdropped on two guards discussing that another dwarf was being kept in a remote location on the other end, far away from all of his comrades, and Bilbo had one guess of who that could be.

Biting his lip, Bilbo decided to turn right. He clenched his hands tightly, dwelling on all the horrible things that the Elvenking might have done to Thorin. Who knows what these elves could really be like, if they imprisoned the dwarves, his friends, under these circumstances. Especially since this included Thorin, the heir of Erebor, and Thranduil had him in his grasp to hole up forever. Bilbo had no idea what could be going on in that Elvenking’s head, but it certainly wasn’t any good in his opinion. 

The last week had been utter madness for the dwarves and Bilbo. Bilbo felt like had barely spoken to Thorin, even just before the spiders. They had been low on food and spirit, having lost the trail. It had been nothing like the first part of Mirkwood where optimism had been plentiful and he and Thorin… Bilbo stopped his thought and his sneaking as two guards wearing light grey clothing and silver helms walked past. 

He flattened against the wall, trying to control his breathing and heart hammering as his mind still raced past those nights spent together, how even in the daylight Thorin seemed to prefer his company to all of his kin. As they walked as alongside as they could in the meandering paths of Mirkwood, Thorin would share stories of his youth, and although Bilbo thought his life was not as exciting, Thorin would insist he do the same. There had been joy then, happiness, but the paths of Mirkwood ever darkened and the evil that lurked there led the company astray and soon there was no time for anything but attempting to remain alive.

Bilbo let a little sigh out as the guards had passed without detecting him once again. Taking a deep breath, he continued down the hallway, periodically looking through barred windows on the doors he passed to see if the rooms contained Thorin. In this part of the palace, the pathways meandered, and the torchlight wasn’t as bright as where the other dwarves were being kept. Bilbo felt like he was holding his breath, and his heart continued to pound in his chest. _Thorin_ , he thought to himself. _I have to find him._ As hard as he could, he tried to repress the thoughts of “or else’s” and “what if’s” that floated through his head and made his heart feel like it was being constricted mercilessly. 

The hallway appeared to be a dead end, but as Bilbo drew closer he realized that it actually sharply turned left. He followed the passage, peering though the silver rungs on every door window to the room inside, searching for him. Getting more exasperated by the second, he walked to a stretch of wall and kicked it, letting out a small sound of the frustration and helplessness that he had been keeping in. 

He laid his head against the cool stone and again took a deep breath. 

He could do this. The guards said he was somewhere down here. He would find Thorin. He had to.

Behind him though, Bilbo heard a small shuffle of noise. Realizing his mistake of making a sound, he flattened again against the wall, closing his eyes, as he expected a guard was coming to investigate.

No one came.

A minute ticked by and he again he heard it, a muffled noise, but a noise all the same. Barely daring to breathe, Bilbo looked up to the door that was to his left against the wall he had kicked. He walked forward and, getting on his tiptoes, looked through the small window inset in it.

And there, in the back of the room, he could just see Thorin through the shadows that the light cast off. His heart felt like it was going to burst and he nearly did a little jig in the hallway has he laid his eyes on the obviously weary, but alive and _in front of him_ dwarf.

Thorin had been pacing in his small room but had frozen in front of the door, looking towards the window but seeing nothing. His face was heavily set in a scowl, and he was glaring at the door, as if he dared any elves who were passing to come any nearer.

Bilbo glanced to his right and then to his left. Other than when he had first entered this passage, he had not seen another elven guard pass. He took a deep breath and pulled off the ring.

Thorin’s eyes widened enormously and his mouth dropped. For a few seconds he froze as if his brain didn’t register what he had seen. The next second he rushed to the door.

“What… how?” he sputtered, looking at Bilbo wildly. “I…”

And as if he just wanted to know Bilbo was really there, he reached through the window and placed a hand on Bilbo’s neck. Bilbo was ridiculously grinning but he didn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter how right now,” Bilbo whispered, giving a nervous glance to the hallway around him. “Just… are you well?”

Thorin nodded. He couldn’t seem to look away from the hobbit in front of him.

“As are you?”

“Yes,” Bilbo answered. “As well as I could be, hiding out in the enemies’ palace, I suppose.”

“Are the others here?”

“Locked up too like you,” he said forlornly. “No chance of getting help from the outside.”

The dwarf’s brow creased. “So our fate is in your hands once again, Master Baggins.” He smiled. “I believe you’ll think of something clever to get us away from these wretched elves.”

Thorin’s hand had not left Bilbo’s neck. His fingers wound through his light brown locks, and he didn’t seem to want to let go. Bilbo, almost without realizing it, leaned in.

“We are, once again, much in your debt. You…” He paused, his expression indiscernible to Bilbo. 

“I should send word back to the other dwarves that I have found you,” Bilbo said finally, after Thorin said nothing more. There were circles under his eyes and he looked worn and haggard. “You should rest. We’ll be out of this prison in no time, you’ll see.”

Thorin shook his head but just gruffly replied, “Fine. Be off with you then.”

Bilbo nodded shortly, stepping away from the door and Thorin’s hand withdrew. 

He pulled out the ring from where he had set it aside in his pocket, and turned to return down the hallway. He was about to slide the ring on this finger when—

“Wait!” Thorin’s whispered cry came.

Confused, Bilbo stepped back to the cell. He peered in the window to see what Thorin wanted now and he again wrapped his hand around Bilbo’s neck softly, but digging his fingers desperately into Bilbo’s hair and drawing his face close to Thorin’s own through the space between the bars. Thorin paused for a second to search his face for any opposition, but seeing none, he closed the remaining distance between them, resting his lips gently upon Bilbo’s. 

Bilbo’s heart sped up, and he found himself reaching through the window himself to place a hand on Thorin’s neck. This was all the confirmation Thorin needed, and slowly deepened the kiss. Finally, Thorin reluctantly drew away. He looked hesitantly at Bilbo, a very odd timid look for Thorin and it appeared so out of place on his face that Bilbo nearly felt worried for him.

Thorin scowled as if daring Bilbo to say something about the sudden kiss. 

Bilbo just looked at Thorin, his eyes crinkled in confusion, and for a moment, thoughts rushed through his mind. If he was honest with himself, he knew Thorin had felt this way about him. But why him? He was only a hobbit after all. There was nothing special about him. He was nothing. Thorin was… _Thorin_. Bilbo sighed. It didn’t matter right now he supposed but it still dug at him like a thorn in his foot. 

“Are there not others…?” Bilbo finally asked quietly. 

If possible, Thorin frowned further, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Others?” he repeated harshly.

Bilbo swallowed. “Yes? I’m nothing… why would you want,” he paused, and gestured to himself, his eyes wide and panic building.

“Bilbo Baggins, I enjoy your company for who you are. I have not a way with words on these matters, however, I wish for it to be known,” Thorin looked down, “before it is too late—“ 

Bilbo opened his mouth to protest this, but Thorin shook his head to silence him. “I know not what this quest will bring, and although I pray for success and will do my best for it, there are never guarantees with a dangerous business such as this. And so, before it is too late, I wish it to be known that I…”

Thorin fastened his eyes upon Bilbo’s. “That I seek your company for… for as long as I shall live.”

He could not believe he had just heard, but he knew his reply.

Bilbo smiled up at Thorin’s frown, which melted by a small, immeasurable amount, and reached up to pull him into another kiss. Too soon though, footsteps could be heard down the hallway. Bilbo broke off the kiss, and moved away with a wide grin on his face. 

Thorin was worried, as to where the hobbit would go as a guard was so quickly approaching. But Bilbo just stepped back, pulled something out of his pocket, and vanished.

As Bilbo ran down the passage on as light of feet as he could manage, he gleefully laughed at the look on Thorin’s face of complete and utter surprise. 

The other dwarves were going to be delighted to hear he found Thorin, but none so much as him. 

He would break them out of this prison, and Thorin… Well he would just have to wait and see what would come of that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for it, and so you got it. Another chapter! I have been thinking about it and talking with my beta, and I know now how the fic is going to end, and so there will be one last chapter.
> 
> Once again, really mild spoilers for the book.

Bilbo tossed and turned, shifted and stretched, adjusted his pillow and threw off his covers, but it was to no avail. Groaning he sat up, staring at the wall before him, bare except for a small burnished mirror which hung there. 

They had successfully fled from the elves, reaching Lake-Town. They were given food, a house to stay in, and beds to rest in: everything they needed to finally relax in safety for the first time since Rivendell. But now, for the life of him, Bilbo couldn’t sleep. The room was warm and the bed was comfortable, but he couldn’t even nap. He was exhausted enough, after all he had been through. 

Feeling rather grumpy and stifling a yawn, he threw off the rest of his covers and swung his legs to the edge of the bed, slipping down so that his feet rested upon the wooden floor.

If he couldn’t sleep, then he figured he might as well take a walk around the expansive of the house. It was better than lying around doing nothing, and perhaps the walk would clear his mind and allow him to fall asleep later. 

Bilbo grabbed a dressing gown from a hook, a luxury he had not been privy to in what felt like years, pulled it on over his loose fitting shirt and pants to keep warm, and slipped out his door. 

He walked noiselessly through the hallway, with moonlight streaming in from windows, lighting his path. He could hear the distant sounds of people still making merry at their arrival for they saw a future running in gold. 

All had been joyous after Thorin had announced his identity and purpose. Bilbo didn’t think he had ever seen his eyes shine as brightly as when Thorin declared himself before them, and his heart filled with pride for him. 

Even now, Bilbo was amazed his plan to free his friends had worked so well, but with the crazy past couple of days, he had barely any time to speak or… anything with Thorin. Thorin, though, had made sure the hobbit was next to him at all times, or so it appeared to Bilbo. Late into the night they had dined and each time Bilbo had made a move to leave the table, Thorin’s hand would wrap around his arm to stay him in place. He would gaze at the hobbit disapprovingly, and after two times, Bilbo didn’t argue further. The toasts were numerous and the ale flowed. Thorin was deep in conversation with the Master of Lake-Town for most of the night, when he wasn’t keeping Bilbo at his side.

He halted his walk at a long window that was taller than he, and leaned on the railing that nearly was as high as his neck, standing on his tiptoes to feel the crisp night air on his face, as the wind rippled across the dark water of the lake. He closed his eyes and thought. He thought about how close they were to the end of their journey and he thought about the dragon in the heart of the mountain before him. Bilbo shivered, but not from the cool air blowing across his neck and arms. Purposely shifting his mind away, he thought about how Thorin had been looking at him; he thought about Thorin’s lips on his, the kiss they shared through bars. He thought about how much he wished for it again. 

So lost was he in thought, that he didn’t even hear the shuffling steps approaching behind him, and Bilbo jumped as two arms wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in an embrace from behind. It much needed and missed comfort; Bilbo knew immediately who it was. Looking over his shoulder, Bilbo caught Thorin’s eye, who was watching him with an expression that could almost be described as warm, certainly for Thorin. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Bilbo said simply, to which Thorin had no response. He looked as if in a daze to Bilbo, and he almost wanted to ask if something was wrong, if not for the faint smile on his face. 

Turning his eyes back to the mountain, Bilbo nodded in its direction. “You think he’s… alive in there?” As much as he hated to admit it, that question brought him dread beyond goblins or spiders or trolls. 

“Hmmm,” Thorin murmured noncommittally. Bilbo could feel the vibrations from Thorin’s chest with the sound, but he said no more once again, and silence fell between them. It, however, was a comfortable silence in his opinion. Merely having Thorin’s presence was soothing in a peculiar sort of way. 

Already, the chilly night was hardly noticeable in Thorin’s embrace, and so the dread of the mountain before him slowly lessened with it. 

“I had been looking for you,” Thorin’s rough voice finally came from behind him. “You weren’t in your room.”

Bilbo smirked and turned away from the mountain to face Thorin, his hands on either side of Bilbo’s waist. “I am allowed to move about, you know. And _you_ , Thorin Oakenshield, were worried about me. Here, in a safe place, worried about _me_.”

Thorin’s brow furrowed, his gaze thunderous. “Of course not, I—I was,“ he sputtered, appearing rather undignified. Bilbo just continued to grin. 

“After all those times I’ve saved you, I should be checking up on _you_ at night.” Bilbo poked Thorin in the chest with emphasis. “Who knows what trouble you could get into next.” Thorin nearly looked outraged, before bursting out into laughter. 

“Perhaps,” he said, chuckling softly. For a dwarf and a king, Bilbo thought he looked rather adorable at the present.

Sobering quickly, Thorin took Bilbo’s hand.

“Come,” Thorin ordered resolutely, and started pulling Bilbo away from the window.

“Wha— Come where?”

He stopped in the hallway, pulling his hand away from Thorin’s and crossed his arms, trying his best to appear imposing.

Thorin eyed the hobbit, confused. “You can’t sleep. I can’t sleep,” he stated, as if that explained everything. 

Bilbo just narrowed his eyes, but he was barely suppressing a grin. He knew what Thorin wanted, but teasing him was more fun right now. “Of course. Glad we straightened that out.”

“Just—come with me,” Thorin said, exasperated, shaking his head, and Bilbo could detect a hint of pleading in his voice that his pride would not allow to completely come through.

Bilbo sighed impatiently, but let himself be pulled by Thorin down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Thorin pushed open the door at the top, revealing a stately room. A fire cackled in a stone fireplace that had been inlaid into the wood, and the whole room was bathed in a warm orange glow of light. A large fur rug lay on the floor, and it was velvety to the bottom of Bilbo’s feet, after so many months of rock and dirt. A large bed was tucked in one of the corners. It was by the far the coziest place he had seen in a long, long while.

A large smile spread across Bilbo’s face, and he, without even thinking, turned to Thorin, and pulled him into a kiss. Thorin’s hands found his waist again and possessively drew him closer. 

Thorin looked rather pleased with himself, and this time Bilbo grabbed his hand and led him to the bed.

Bilbo snuggled under the heavy covers and Thorin crawled in after him, fitting in next to him, his hands across Bilbo’s stomach once again, and a fleeting thought crossed his mind that he wasn’t the only one who felt comfort and safety in their closeness. It had been weeks since they had fallen asleep like this and Bilbo felt like… well… like he was home.

Thorin’s head was tucked against his shoulder and Bilbo could feel his soft breath on his neck and his steady heartbeat against his back. 

And like that, only after they were together, they were able to finally sleep. 

Bilbo awoke to gentle kisses against his neck and shoulder. Making a noise of confusion, Bilbo rolled around so he was facing Thorin, whose face, in the dim early morning light, had the kindest look about him that Bilbo had ever seen. Warmth spread through his body, and through his still sluggish mind. Thorin placed a hand through Bilbo’s soft curls, and leaned forward, staring into Bilbo’s wide eyes as he closed the distance between them and continued placing kisses on his lips. 

Bilbo returned the kisses, his heart aching from this want of something he didn’t know he needed before now. 

Breaking off suddenly, Thorin smiled across to Bilbo, as sunlight began to stream into the room. 

“I’m relieved that’s been established.”

“What’s been established?” Bilbo asked, confused and slightly suspicious.

“That you are not allowed to sleep on your own anymore,” Thorin responded with a smirk. “For any reason whatsoever. I forbade it.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it already—“

Thorin cut him off with another kiss, but then rolled back on his back, his face clouding worryingly.

“When this is all over with,” he said slowly and softly to the ceiling, as if talking to himself, “when Smaug is dead, and Erebor and the gold are mine, have you given any thought to your future? I have stated to you that I wished your company, and I made it clear I did not mean solely for this journey. I am not sure if it occurred to you what that entailed.” He turned back to look at Bilbo, his expression guarded. 

Silence filled the room. 

Bilbo looked away, his mind full of confliction and confusion and he truthfully didn’t know the answer at all. He couldn’t decrypt what he was feeling or thinking, and all of his emotions, his love for his home and for—for Thorin, were all mixed up, and he knew deep down he couldn’t have both. 

Thorin just watched him sorrowfully, for he knew what must be going through his mind, and he understood it all. It would be Bilbo’s decision to make.

“You have time,” Thorin said, his tone becoming gruff once again. “To make your decision. For it is yours. I will accept whichever you choose.” 

Bilbo just nodded, and leaned over to softly kiss his forehead. 

“Thank you,” he said hesitantly and apologetically, before sliding off the bed. Bilbo walked to the door while Thorin remained on the bed, still staring at the ceiling. 

Opening it, Bilbo glanced back at him, and opened his mouth to say something, but he thought the better of it, and left to wash up for the day. The sun was bright on the water, nearly blinding, as if the river really had turned to gold, but through the sadness and confusion he felt, a bit of regret now mixed in, because he didn’t tell Thorin he loved him before he walked out. Shaking his head, he pushed it from his mind. They had bigger things to deal with at the moment, than Thorin and him, and there would always be another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT AND KIND WORDS AND LOVE THROUGH COMMENTS AND KUDOS AND BOOKMARKS. This is by far my most popular work ever, and am still overwhelmed with how much you love it. 
> 
> You all are the best ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the book. Everything is game now.

Only a fraction of Bilbo’s mind was occupied with the battle raging before him. His body wasn’t even fully there, as he had slid the ring on his finger hours ago. They were winning, they were losing, they were winning again… It was all too much for him to take in and process. So many good, men, elves, and dwarves, who all should have had long and happy lives, were reduced to lifeless bodies strewn among the corpses of goblins. Thus his mind strayed from the horrors around him, to protect him and to escape those thoughts as he dealt in death to end the fighting he had worked so hard, and given up so much to try to prevent.

_Thorin_. He shuddered, and his hands felt numb. For what felt like the thousandth time that day, he looked across the battlefield to where Thorin fought, his eyes frantically scanning the chaos of bodies for his… There. Bilbo breathed a small sigh of relief as he spotted him expertly wielding a great axe and slewing goblins left and right. None could touch him. 

Bilbo adjusted his grip on Sting and tried to concentrate on the fighting around him, but his mind slipped back to _that morning_ , as if caught in a rut. Flashes of regret and sorrow burned through him, as they had been since it happened. What if he hadn’t given away the Arkenstone? Would he be fighting by Thorin’s side? Would the men and elves and dwarves not be fighting goblins right now, but each other? 

The glare of rage and betrayal on Thorin’s face when he discovered what Bilbo had done was seared into his memory, and it haunted him. There was no decision to make anymore. Even though he had come so close to choosing… And his thoughts slid away once again from the present.

 

That fortnight spent in Lake-Town was the calm before the storm, a taste of the infinite possibilities to come, granted that they would be successful. Hope burgeoned in the company once again, and they looked to their futures. 

He spent time each day in solace to attend to the chaotic state his mind was in. He had never been put into a position of making a hard decision in his life, one that was fully in his power to choose his fate. Coming on this journey didn’t really count in his opinion, as he was rather pushed into it. And this was big; as Thorin was right, the decision could not be taken lightly. It was like choosing between his two halves and Bilbo was lost in what he should do. He knew he could ask one of the dwarves for advice; Balin particularly might be helpful, but he truly craved support from the one person, or wizard, who wasn’t here. And so Bilbo kept silent, wrestling with his mind alone.

Thorin spent time each day making preparations for the rest of their journey, but any time he had free, he would seek Bilbo out and draw him away from his reverie.

They read together one afternoon. Thorin had found some old Dwarvish scrolls kept by the Master of Lake-town, which contained several epics of yore. Thorin had asked Bilbo if he had heard them before, and Bilbo had shaken his head. Undeterred, Thorin enthusiastically grabbed his hand and pulled him to a quiet corner of the house. He sat and pulled Bilbo down with him, so that Bilbo was nestled between his legs. He wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s waist, drawing him close. Bilbo placed his hand over Thorin’s. Thorin used his other hand to place the scroll across Bilbo’s lap, and Thorin looked over his shoulder eyeing it. It was covered in runes indistinguishable to Bilbo.

“You aren’t going to make me read it, are you?” Bilbo asked teasingly, glancing behind his shoulder. 

Thorin only wove his fingers with Bilbo’s, and Bilbo looked down to stare at their hands together for a brief moment.

 

A spray of blood from a goblin being slashed in the throat by an elf harshly brought him back to the present. He wiped it from his face with his free hand. Shaking his head, he once again scanned the battle for Thorin, and the pressure in his chest released slightly when he saw him still fighting. 

Bilbo jumped to the left to avoid a goblin, soon-to-be dead, falling on him. He scrambled across the rocks, spotting another goblin who was sneaking through the disarray. Bilbo ran up, and stabbed him through the side of the neck, flinching slightly as more blood splattered.

He had to try to tell himself that he didn’t give up everything for nothing, as the dwarves and elves and men had united to fight their common foe, but it did not succeed as he stepped over corpse after corpse. Bilbo halted by a large rock, leaning against it, and closed his eyes. 

 

“No, you ridiculous hobbit, I will not have you read it. Just listen,” said Thorin’s gruff voice in his ear, but Bilbo could still hear a smile behind his words. 

And Thorin began to recite the epic poem. He would read several lines in Khuzdul, and then translate them for Bilbo. The words seemed to Bilbo to flow like water over rock, and Bilbo leaned against Thorin as he was lulled into a nearly trance-like state. 

The story detailed a beautiful Dwarvish princess who, when her beloved was caught in a terrible war with hosts of the darkness, took up a great axe, which she named Sharul, and prepared herself for battle. Although she was swift to that field of death with much needed reinforcements, it was too late, as her beloved had been killed the day before. In her grief and the grief of the Dwarven army for their fallen kin, they swarmed and destroyed the enemy force. After their victory, she dropped her axe, and declared that none should touch it or face the penalty of death. The victory was hollow in her eyes, and she vowed to never marry, but instead ruled and fought on the battlefield alone. 

 

Bilbo suddenly had the presence of mind to duck as a fight between a man and a warg got a little too close to him. Sword slammed into rock where his head was several seconds ago. Bilbo jumped to the side and jammed his own sword into the brownish black warg’s hide as hard as he could, just as the man did the same on the opposite side.

The man didn’t seem to notice; his eyes were as glazed over as Bilbo’s. Bilbo clambered to the top of the rock, peering once again around the battlefield from his vantage point. The sun was rising.

 

By the end of the story, Bilbo was nearly asleep, laying against Thorin and feeling slightly morose. 

“… Do Dwarves have an afterlife?”

Thorin looked down at Bilbo, whose head was on his chest, and his eyes crinkled. The sun was setting, casting reds and oranges across the lake. It looked like the water was on fire.

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because then when the princess, or, I guess, now queen. Well, when she died, she would have joined her beloved there. In your afterlife. And would be happy again.”

“It’s a story, nothing more,” Thorin said dismissively, but he folded both of his arms around Bilbo and together they watched the sun disappear below the horizon.

Bilbo had not come any closer to deciding then. He could clearly see in his mind how Thorin appealed to his Tookish side and Bag-End, well, was his Baggins side. He had tried to think of a way to satisfy both to no avail, and it brought him despair. Thorin was absolutely right; he would have to give up one. That was the only way.  
Bilbo fell into a fitful sleep in Thorin’s arms, who still had been looking across the water to his mountain. When Bilbo flinched suddenly, Thorin looked down again, as if just realizing he was there. As if he could sense Thorin’s gaze, Bilbo stirred and sleepily opened his eyes. Thorin pressed his lips to Bilbo’s head softly. 

“We should get up to bed,” he said, nudging him gently. “We’ll need the rest for tomorrow.”

Bilbo was temporarily confused before he remembered. “Right. We’re leaving Lake-Town.” 

He pulled away from Thorin and stood up, holding out his hand to him. Thorin took it and let the hobbit pull him up. 

“Come on,” Bilbo whispered, because he had just realized how quiet and dark the house had become. “Bed time.”

That night, as they both lay in bed facing each other, Thorin appeared to have fallen asleep, but Bilbo was still awake thinking. He placed a hand on the side of Thorin’s face, a touch as if to check if he was still there. 

“I love you,” he said, and Thorin seemed to smile slightly. 

 

Bilbo squinted at the increasing amount of light on the horizon, continuing to ignore the cacophony of death around him. 

“The eagles,” he said quietly to himself. “The eagles!” he half shouted. 

“THE EAGLES! THE EAGLES,” he cried as loud as his small stature could allow, and waved his arms and pointed even though no one could see him.

However, those around him could hear him by this point, and looked up to the sky to see many large eagles heading their way. The cry was repeated joyously across the battlefield by men, elves and dwarves. 

Bilbo was grinning ridiculously, and practically skipping in the spot, as he watched the eagles come closer, and he knew this was the start of hope and the start of their victory. Suddenly, as he squinted into the sun, he knew. He knew what he was going to choose and it felt right. He would be with Thorin and everything would be— And then a rock came from what seemed like nowhere, hitting his helm, and Bilbo knew no more.

 

He remembered being woken by Thorin early that morning, and pulling on his traveling clothes once more. Thorin was resolute and confident, especially now that he was so close to reclaiming what was his. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, and he even seemed antsy as he waited for Bilbo to pull on his waistcoat. 

“Hold on, hold on,” Bilbo said impatiently. Thorin was standing by the door. 

Bilbo finally managed to pull the coat on, and walked over to Thorin. 

To Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin tightly embraced him. Bilbo was nearly knocked off his feet, and he wrapped his arms around Thorin as well. Thorin finally let go of him, and stepped back.

“No offense, but what was that about?” Bilbo asked awkwardly.

Thorin leaned down and kissed him gently. “I love you too,” he answered solemnly. 

Bilbo opened his mouth and immediately closed it again, choosing to smile instead. He leaned up, weaving his hand through Thorin’s black hair, and pulled him down for another kiss.

 

Bilbo had a splitting headache. He felt like his head had been cleaved into two. He clutched at his head and blinked. It was dark outside, and oh. He rolled onto his back, and just for a second, he felt paralyzed with throbbing pain from his head and back and legs and everywhere. He groaned. 

“Hello?” came a voice. “Is someone there?”

Bilbo swallowed and tried to reign in some of the pain. “I—I’m here,” he stuttered.

“What? Where?” 

He lifted his head to see a man with a torch in his hand near him, turning on the spot and squinting into the darkness.

Momentarily confused, Bilbo suddenly remembered the ring. He pulled it off and tried to sit up. “Here.”

The man jumped, but rushed forward to help him.

After he explained he had been looking for Bilbo, they together managed to get him to be able to stand again. Bilbo still felt shaky but he told the man he could handle it. 

“What am I needed for?” he asked, swaying slightly. 

The man looked grave. “It’s urgent,” was all he said, and started walking off, motioning for Bilbo to follow.

He brought Bilbo to a great tent, and Bilbo could recall it had been the Elfking’s tent. 

Bilbo just looked back to the guard with slight bewilderment, but shrugged and walked in.

What he first registered was Thorin lying on a cot. And then he grasped the enormity of his wounds. They were horrible and everywhere and Bilbo ran forward, wrapping a hand around Thorin’s. Thorin blinked and slowly turned his head towards Bilbo. Thorin smiled, but it wasn’t the smile Bilbo was used to. It was the smile of a man trying to hide so much pain and suffering, and it felt like Bilbo was being stabbed in the gut from the wretchedness of that smile. 

He knew nothing could be done.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whispered, placing his other hand on the left side of Thorin’s face, wiping away some of the blood. His heart felt like it had stopped working and his head felt as if filled with fire and cotton. He couldn’t think. He wanted to kill who had done this to Thorin; he wanted to cry until there was nothing left. 

Time had stopped, life had stopped. Bilbo’s throat burned, but several tears began to slip down his cheek. He tried to remember when this could have happened; he had been keeping an eye on Thorin, so this wouldn’t happen so it was his fault…

“Bilbo,” Thorin rasped. 

Bilbo just squeezed his hand harder, but waited for him to talk. He couldn’t tell if it was Thorin’s hand shaking or his, or both. 

“I’m sorry, I did not—I was a fool, I know that now—I should not have...”

Bilbo shook his head, his cheeks wet and eyes red. 

“Whatever had been done, it’s in the past. It does not matter anymore.” 

Thorin just nodded, and tried to lift his other hand towards Bilbo, but couldn’t. 

Bilbo glanced at the space on the cot, and then carefully climbed on next to Thorin, doing his best not to jolt him or cause him unnecessary pain. He cautiously wrapped his arms around Thorin and held him. Tears still flowed unabated and unchecked. His eyes never left Thorin’s face, and Thorin continued to only look at him.

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked suddenly. 

“Mmhm?” 

“I had made my decision yesterday. Or earlier today. I’ve lost track of time,” Bilbo said, choking on a laugh. 

Thorin just stared at him, with wide eyes against his pale face. 

“I want to be with you,” he said simply with a sad smile, and tenderly kissed him. 

Thorin smiled, and this smile appeared to be past the suffering, as if Thorin was better or somewhere else already. Somewhere away from the pain and horribleness of this world. 

“I will… see you there someday then,” he whispered. 

“There?” 

Thorin minutely nodded and closed his eyes. Bilbo held him close.

“Well for now, I’m here,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll always be here.”

And he stayed until he was gently pulled away by Gandalf what could have been minutes or hours later. The world became a blur, and then dark…

And then finally light again. 

 

\--

 

**Epilogue**

Bilbo rounded the corner and… there. His heart stops as he sees it. The Hill ahead which was, and is he supposes, his home. Bag-End. The sight of it causes a slight gnawing ache inside of him and suddenly he can’t get to it soon enough. Leaving Gandalf behind, he runs. He runs up the hill to the home he hasn’t seen in over a year. 

Gandalf is laughing, but Bilbo knows he understands. Bilbo hasn’t felt this happy in months, and that joy is clearly etched upon his face. 

As he stands in his house later all alone, he relishes in the quiet, the lack of dwarves, and all this free space, _his home_ , to himself. 

But deep down, he knows something is missing. Something that may not have been there before, but should be here now. Here with him. 

It’s a warm spring day, like the one he left on a year ago, and he can hear all of the residents of the Hill hard at work living their small, but busy lives: planting shrubs, cleaning pots, shouting kids, and spouses arguing. Bilbo looks once again around his large, nice hobbit hole, and closes his eyes. 

He sees Thorin, content and not in pain. Bilbo knows that he’s waiting for him, but he can’t join him yet. Not now. He still has a life to live through, and he will make the most of it while he can. 

Gandalf was right, he supposed. If he did make it back, he would not be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS FINISHED! I have to say thank you all for reading for like the thousandth time. Thank you for your kudos and comments; they kept me going and made me very happy.
> 
> I have some other fics I'm working on, well one, but if you'd like any updates, my Tumblr is thorinodinsons.tumblr.com. 
> 
> I wanted to thank my beta, Danielle (thorinoakenbabe.tumblr.com), for all her help and encouragement and ideas while writing this fic.


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